Changes
by leavinghope
Summary: The occasional dinner together after years apart is enough for John Watson and Sherlock Holmes, right? (This story is part of my post-Reichenbach series "Home", which contains the stories "Affection", "Press", "Wonder", and "Home". However, this story, as all the previous ones, can be read as a standalone. I hope you enjoy it.)


"What did Angelo give us this time?" asked John Watson, as he collapsed into his chair in 221B Baker Street. He heard the popping of a cork, and the voice of Sherlock Holmes came from the kitchen. "A moscato. Should be a perfect dessert."

As John took a full wine glass from his friend, he remarked, "We already had a bottle of lambrusco with dinner."

Sherlock clinked his glass against John's. "Can't hold your liquor as well as you used to, old man?" He placed his glass and the wine bottle on the floor next to his chair and chuckled at the rather rude hand gesture John aimed in his direction.

As Sherlock knelt in front of the fireplace, he said, "Mary called me."

"I'm not surprised."

"She told me that I could visit her lab in Los Angeles any time I wanted." Sherlock sounded pleased as the fire blazed steadily.

"She likes you."

"I like her, too, surprisingly." Sherlock settled into his chair and picked up his glass of wine.

John pursed his lips before saying, "That was, indeed, a shock."

Both men laughed and sipped wine as the fire warmed the sitting room. John sighed contentedly as he and Sherlock relaxed in the glow of firelight. Only the crackling of the fire interrupted the comfortable quiet shared by the two men.

Eventually, Sherlock broke the silence. "Mary told me I should ask you to move back to Baker Street."

"Oh, did she?"

"Yes, so consider yourself asked."

John raised his glass. "I consider myself asked."

The doctor watched as his friend appeared to struggle to find the words to say next.

"She also wanted me to know that I was not the reason your relationship failed."

"You weren't."

"But…"

John interrupted. "You weren't. And my relationship with Mary did not fail."

Sherlock wrinkled his nose in obvious confusion. "Explain."

John thought back to the beginning of his relationship with Mary. He had emerged from a year of grieving Sherlock, ready to force himself to interact with the rest of the world. Mary had been perfect. Beautiful, kind, intelligent, understanding. John smiled. "When Mary and I first started dating, the goal was to keep things casual. She was only in London temporarily, and I, well, you know what I was dealing with. Mary and I were both surprised by how good things were between us. Moving in together seemed a logical step. Marriage felt like a natural progression of our friendship." John took a deep drink of wine. "But in the end, we were the same people who went out on that first date… she wanted to move back to the States and pursue a fantastic career opportunity, and I can't imagine leaving London. The parting was amicable, and we're still great friends."

"Hmm…" Sherlock sounded doubtful.

"So you see? My relationship with Mary was not a failure."

After a few moments of staring at John, Sherlock grinned. John automatically smiled in response. He was rarely as pleased as when Sherlock was delighted.

"You surprise me, John Watson."

John once again raised his glass, and after Sherlock responded in kind, they sipped their wine and enjoyed the warmth of the room. Sherlock closed his eyes, and John took advantage of the opportunity to observe his best friend. Sherlock had gained weight since his return. John had agreed to meet for tea and lunches and dinners to mend their friendship, and Sherlock dutifully ate every time. John smiled fondly at the memories of the past few weeks, getting to know each other again.

Sherlock opened his eyes. "It's just… You were always so alone when you lived here with me." He tried to speak dismissively, but John heard the sorrow in his voice.

"I never felt alone here with you," John protested,

"Looking for girlfriend after girlfriend made it seem otherwise."

"Haven't you ever been interested in a relationship?"

Sherlock hesitated before replying. "I tried it once."

John hoped his shock did not show on his face. He had never quite believed that Sherlock was a virgin. The man was too curious and too attractive to have never gained sexual experience. But John doubted that Sherlock was willing to indulge in the emotional entanglement that a relationship implied. At least he had before Sherlock had fallen. On many recent occasions, John regretted his previous doubt in his friend's ability to feel. "What happened, if I may?"

Sherlock took a deep breath, but remained silent. John almost assured him that he did not have to talk about this, before Sherlock said, "We attended uni together. When I accompanied him to meet his family during a holiday, I deduced that his father was embezzling from his employer. This led to the aforementioned father losing his job, his home, and his wife quite quickly thereafter."

John could not hide his amusement. "So, in other words, you were yourself."

"Oh, John, this was before I matured into the tactful man you see before you today." Sherlock indicated his relaxedbody with the sweep of his wine glass.

"Oh, god. You mean this is the improved version?"

John's higher pitched giggle blended with Sherlock's lower register laughter in a melody that the sitting room of 221B Baker Street had been missing for far too long.

"It was the first time any of my deductions led to a concrete result. My first case, if you will." Sherlock's voice had taken on a wistful tone.

John gave into his curiosity and decided to pursue the matter, because Sherlock was seldom in such an unreserved mood. "Were you sorry the relationship ended?"

"No. My relationship with Victor allowed me to experience what most would consider a normal human interaction, and I was glad for that in my own way."

"Did you love him?"

"Even at the time, I never thought I was in love with him." Sherlock paused to take a sip of wine. "And as I understand more about love now, I know that was the truth."

"Have you wanted to pursue another relationship?"

"I enjoyed the companionship and regular physical gratification, but I cannot change who I am to satisfy the expectations of another."

Not exactly a no, John thought. "Do you ever get lonely?"

Sherlock studied the swirling wine in his glass. "Yes."

John did not know if he was more surprised by the affirmative answer or of his certainty that Sherlock would not have confessed this when they first met. John thought of the nights he'd left Sherlock alone when he went on dates. The holidays spent with Harry. The three years of separation. Two men sitting alone in their separate flats. He sucked in a quick breath, as he realized the ways he might have hurt Sherlock.

"Jesus, all of those times I said we weren't together, I didn't mean…there's nothing wrong…"

"John, don't be an idiot."

John banged his head on the back of this chair and muttered under his breath. "Please don't let me fuck this up again."

"Again? Oh, of course, Harry."

John sighed. "I was at a sensitive age when Harry came out. Just when it became important to be masculine, I was bullied about my sister being a lesbian and how I must be gay, too." John paused as Sherlock topped off their glasses. One long drink later, he continued, "And I was so wrapped up in my own reactions that I never thought about how it must have affected my sister. How maybe she needed me to be more supportive, or at least not act like a homophobic bastard."

"John, you were very young at the time."

"I know, but… I've always wondered if I could have kept her from her struggles with alcohol, if I'd been there for her."

"You're a doctor, John, you know that addiction has biological factors."

"Right." John shook his head. "Still, I'm embarrassed to admit it, but that's the origin of my quick denials about us, decades later. I'm am such an arse."

"I think we both understand that some scars take a long time to heal."

"Yeah."

A silent beat, and then John asked, "Had you already deduced this about me?"

"Obviously."

"Berk."

Sherlock smiled into his glass and drained it dry.

"But I do want you to know, Sherlock, that I wasn't denying you, but rather that people were wrong about me and about us. I would never be ashamed about you."

"Or about being gay?"

"Being gay is nothing to be ashamed of." John paused. "As you pointed out, I'm a doctor, Sherlock. I know sexuality isn't binary. It likely isn't even static."

John snorted as he looked into his empty glass.

"What's so funny?" Sherlock asked.

"When I was a younger man, I could tell you exactly what I wanted in a woman. Height, weight, hair and eye color, measurements down to the cup size. God, I was so shallow."

Sherlock raised his eyebrows.

John continued. "But as I've gotten older, what appeals to me haschanged."

"What do you find attractive, John?" Sherlock placed his glass on the floor and nestled deeper into his chair, all of his focus on John.

"Intelligence, passion, humor, kindness, loyalty." John's voice trailed off. "And none of those traits are specific to gender." John tipped his glass and watched a single wine drop fall on his other hand. "Love and intimacy, it's about wanting to be close to another person. Wanting that connection, that trust. Not about what peg fits into which slot. Guess I just don't find being with someone of the same gender as weird an idea as I used to."

John looked up and caught a fleeting glimpse of an indefinable emotion in Sherlock's eyes before the detective smiled and exclaimed "John!"

The glee in Sherlock's eyes and voice caused John to hesitantly ask, "Um, what?"

"John! You've surprised me twice this evening. Brilliant! No wonder I miss you."

Sherlock frowned and tilted his head, as replaying what he had just said. Both men burst into laughter.

Sherlock lifted the wine bottle off of the floor and eyed it suspiciously.

"Do you think Angelo spiked it?" asked John.

"Perhaps that wasn't sage in the brown butter sauce."

"Oh, god."

Sherlock's laughter caused him to slide down in his chair until his long legs were brushing John's. Kicking ensued, and John felt the past three years flow away with the giggling-induced tears on his face.

As the hilarity calmed down, John glanced at his watch. "I cannot believe how late it is. I have an early shift at the surgery tomorrow." He placed his hands on the arms of his chair to boost himself up, but decided to let himself fall back down and rest with his friend just a few more minutes.

"If you lived here, you'd be home by now." Sherlock looked confused. "Is that a quote from something?"

John giggled again.

"In all seriousness, John…" Sherlock paused as he straightened up in his chair. "I would be glad to have you as a flatmate again."

John rubbed his face. "It is a tempting offer, Sherlock. But I think it might be for the best to be on my own for a little while. Get my bearings back after ending things with Mary, you know? I'm not saying no forever, but who knows? Maybe you'll find someone else?"

"That is unlikely."

Smiling at Sherlock's serious tone, John finally stood up. "I need to sleep to have any chance of being of use to my patients. Guess I should be going."

"You could stay here tonight."

The roughness of Sherlock's voice surprised John, causing him to hesitate in the process of putting on his coat. Both men were obviously affected by the emotional nature of their discussion, but Sherlock's voice hinted at more. And John's breath caught in his throat at the possibility. He shrugged on his coat.

"Thank you for the offer, but not this time. All my work stuff is at my flat."

Sherlock grabbed his violin in one hand and said, "Of course. Thank you for tonight." He smiled shyly and gestured to the flat around them. "This felt right."

The two men walked to the door together, and John turned to look at his friend. "It really did." John gave into impulse and hugged Sherlock, who returned the embrace with his free arm. "I'll text you when I get to the flat, I promise."

Sherlock nodded and walked over to his music stand, and John closed the door behind him and started down the stairs.

"Did you enjoy your date, dearie?"

John looked at Mrs. Hudson in the entrance hall below.

"It wasn't a…" John halted halfway down the stairs. It wasn't a date. It was just two best mates having dinner, sharing a bottle of wine, talking about their philosophies of love and relationships, feeling tempted to prolong the evening and embracing at the threshold.

_Well, shit._

Mrs. Hudson cocked her head and listened to the violin music filtering through the closed door of 221B. By the time John reached the bottom of the stairs, she nodded her head in satisfaction and gave John a knowing look. "Definitely a date."

"But…" John stuttered. Mrs. Hudson gave him a kiss on the cheek and said, "I hope you'll drop by again soon."

"I…" John looked up the stairs to 221B and then back at Mrs. Hudson. "Yeah, you'll see me soon." He returned her kiss on the cheek before heading out to the street. He stopped to listen to the beautiful music coming through 221B's open windows.

The melody conveyed the loneliness that Sherlock confessed to earlier, and John felt it resonate within him. The thought of returning to his empty flat emphasized the fact that 221B Baker Street would always be home to him. And most importantly, his friendship with Sherlock was stronger than ever. John let out a shaky laugh to loosen the tightness in his chest when he thought of the unexplored depths hinted by a roughened voice.

John Watson was many things. Soldier, doctor, lover, brother, son, blogger and best friend to the only consulting detective in the world.

But John Watson was not a coward.

He knew that Sherlock's phone would be resting on the music stand as he played. John walked far enough down Baker Street to be out of sight, but still be within earshot of the violin. Then he sent off a single text:

_Are you still looking for a flatmate?_

A few moments later, John heard the violin make a victorious glissando, and he smiled as he continued towards the Tube station, after receiving Sherlock's _Yes! SH_


End file.
